Injured Series
by LittleWing
Summary: Just a short series of one shots. Giving the boys some of my injuries as practice for getting back into writing. Will feature all 4 boys. No pairings. Friendship pieces.
1. Burned- Carlos

A/N: So, I've been away from writing for a good long while now, and this is a short series that's more of an exercise in writing quick one shots. It's really meant to get the juices going again. I have a crap load of ideas, and some stories that seriously need to be finished, so... Basic idea behind this series is to give the character(s) injuries I've actually had in my life time. That's a pretty long list, and don't think I can find cool ways to give the guys all my ouchies, so just going with the more interesting ones.

Disclaimer: I do not own Big Time Rush. If I did Kendall woulda had more time to choose between Lucy and Jo, and possibly actually gone out with Lucy before picking Jo (but I'm verging on ranting, so...)

About this specific injury. I'm starting with my newest injuries first. I actually did this the other day. Only I patched myself up...no Logan to do it for me, not that I would have let him help. It's one of those funky 1st/2nd degree burns, and is really almost 3" big. Bummer where it is too, since it's just a wee bit into my tattoo. What can I say, I'm very accident prone. Irony here is that I'm also allergic to adhesive, and I'm always in need of a band-aid.

* * *

"Hothothothothothot!" Carlos hissed in pain as the bottom of the sauce pan he'd intended to use for macaroni and cheese touched the inside of his left forearm; burning the tender flesh in a large section. Heated pain radiated from an almost three inch section of caramel colored skin. He hissed as he dropped the pan in the sink, staring at the angry red patch of skin. The design of the bottom of the pan was clear. Reaching for the faucet, he quickly flipped on the cold water and waited a few seconds for it to get a little bit colder before plunging his arm under the stream of water. He hissed a sigh as the cold water ran over the heated patch of skin, cooling the top layer of skin.

"What happened?" he heard Logan ask, as he shifted his weight and tried to figure out how long he needed to keep his arm under the running water.

"The pan was hotter than I thought," he cryptically explained; no longer enjoying the coolness of the water running over the burn. New pain filled his arm, as the skin around the angry red patch of flesh ached from being too cold.

"How in the world did you manage this?" Logan asked, grabbing the first aid kit from a nearby closet. Carlos didn't answer. Silently, Logan grabbed a clean towel, shut off the water and dabbed at the water dripping from his friend's arm. Carefully, Logan lead Carlos from the kitchen to the dining table. Pushing him down into a chair, Logan sat opposite him. Glancing over the wound, he could see it swelling and a blister wanting to form along the bottom edge. "This is going to hurt," he said quietly, opening the kit and grabbing a bottle of burn gel.

Uncapping the bottle, Logan turned it up side down and squeezed a large amount onto the burn. Tearing open a gauze package and pulling out the square piece of cotton, Logan smoothed the large glob of cream into a thick layer over the red patch marring Carlos' arm. Sighing lightly, Carlos relaxed his body and allowed his arm to rest more heavily in Logan's grasp. The burning sensation his arm had eased, not stopped.

"Don't take this off for a little while," Logan said, laying the gauze lightly over the layer of cream. Digging out a roll of medical tape, Logan carefully tapped the long edges of the cotton down to his friend's arm. "I'll help you clean this in a few hours. Then I'll treat it with something else and wrap it up. This could take a while to heal."

"Thanks, Logan," he said, taking his arm from Logan's grasp.

"Carlos?" he questioned the latino.

"Yeah?"

"How did you manage to do that?"

"I was going to make some mac and cheese. So, I sat the pan on the burner and turned it on. Then I went to get a box of mac and cheese, but we're out, so I turned off the burner and wanted to see if the pan'd had time to get hot or not...so I touched it to my arm," he explained, his face turning nearly as res as the burn mark on his arm in embarrassment. "Pretty stupid, huh?"

"Yeah, Carlos, it was," he agreed. "But I'm pretty sure you're the only person I know who would do something like that."

"I won't be doing THAT ever again!" He declared loudly, pointing an accusing finger at the pan handle sticking out of the sink.

FIN


	2. Broken- Logan

"Come on, James!" Logan Mitchell yelled in the general direction of his band mate and friend. "We're going to be late, and you've checked your hair for the Nth time!"

Moving faster than he knew he should, Logan unlocked the passenger door, yanked it open and tossed his backpack to the floor. Any other day and the top would have been down, but it was one of those rare California days that was overcast with a threat of rain. He sighed, waiting for his pretty friend to appear on the sidewalk of the parking lot. "James!" he shouted again, not seeing his friend. Another sigh, and he slammed the door shut with the intention of hunting his friend down and pulling the other teen away from whatever shiny surface he'd stopped to admire himself in or pretty girl he'd found to hit on along the way.

Stepping away from the car, he felt a tug and heard an odd ripping sound. He looked down at the car door to see what he'd caught in it that was keeping him from moving away. Horror filled him as he realized his pinky finger was shut in the door. Reacting, more than thinking, Logan quickly opened the door, freeing his trapped finger. Instinctively he curled his hand into a fist and cradled it against his chest. Pain he hadn't felt when he'd shut his finger in the door, filled his mind and his finger throbbed.

Looking up the path again, Logan spotted his friend finally making his way along to the car. "James!" he called out again. "We have to go, now," he said, settling himself behind the wheel of the car. He didn't bother the see if James was hurrying or not, as he slid the key into the ignition and starting the car.

"What happened?" his pretty friend asked, sliding into the passenger seat.

"Pretty sure I just broke my finger," he muttered, maneuvering the car from its parking spot one handed. Doing his best to ignore the pain in his throbbing digit, Logan steered the vehicle out of the parking lot on to the street. Their original destination forgotten as he headed for the nearest urgent care clinic he knew of.

"How'd you manage that?"

"Shut it in the freaking car door," he grunted, pain obvious in his voice.

Minutes that felt like hours later, Logan pulled the car into the clinic's parking lot. Shifting into park, he cut the engine. Glancing at his watch, Logan cursed. Still ten minutes until it opened. Emergency would be filling up and a broken finger was not life or death. He'd wait. Wordlessly, he slipped from the car and headed toward the small group of patients mulling around the door, hand clutched tightly to his chest.

The ten minutes went by faster and slower than time had ever moved for Logan Mitchell. The door was finally opened. The mulling patients filed in and nearly flooded the front desk. He waited at the end of the line for his turn. His turn at the window was brief and resulted in being handed a clipboard of paperwork to fill out and bring back.

"I got this, Logie," James said, startling him from his pain induced haze. "Excuse me," he said, smiling at the receptionist. "Would it be possible for my friend to get an ice pack?"

"Just a moment," she said, returning the smile.

A few minutes later, the paperwork had been filled out by James and returned to the front desk in exchange for an ice pack.

"Thank you," he said, gratefully taking the ice pack and wrapping his throbbing, swollen finger in the cold, plastic of the pack.

Slowly the throbbing dulled to a tight burn, as they waited for Logan to be called back.

Nearly ten minutes later he was finally called back to an exam room. Seating himself on the exam table, he waited for them to take his temperature and blood pressure before the questions of what happened began.

"All right, Mr. Mitchell," a middle aged, blonde woman said, stepping into the room. "Can you tell me what happened?" He quickly relayed the story, noting the way she responded to what he said. "Let's have a look." Snapping on a pair of gloves, she carefully helped him peel away the still cold ice pack revealing his hand still clutched in a fist. "Can you open your hand?"

"I think so," he said, willing his stiffened fingers to uncurl and lay flat in her gloved hand. Slowly, they obeyed his command. All five fingers lay straight, to his amazement, along the contours of her hand. Bits of dried blood clung to the nail bed of his pinky and the small cut along the cuticle. He sucked in a quick breath, not expecting his finger to look that bad or that good.

"Turn it over please," she requested, not looking up from his hand.

Quietly, Logan obeyed her request and flipped his hand palm up in her hands. He was again surprised. A small arching bruise ran along the top of the pad, and another small cut was already mostly sealed shut just under the bruise. Blood had run down his finger into his palm and along his ring finger. This time he noticed the swelling in his finger tip and how much pain there wasn't any more.

"Can you wash the blood off, so we can get a better look and make sure there aren't any cuts to your other finger?"

Logan moved over to the small sink in the counter along a wall. "I think so," he said, turning on the water and carefully placing his injured hand under the stream. Equally as careful he lathered soap over his pinky and ring fingers, washing away the dried blood. Rinsing away the bubbles from the soap, Logan was relieved to see that there weren't any cuts to his ring finger, and the cuts to his pinky didn't start bleeding. He also noted, seeing it for the first time, a small area beneath the nail where blood had pooled.

"So?" James' voice cut through Logan's wonder at seeing the lack of damage to his digit.

"It appears that the cuts aren't serious, but we will have to prescribe medicine to prevent infection. After we get some film of the finger, we'll see if we need to let the blood beneath the nail out by putting a small hole in your nail. It'll relieve pressure in there."

"Logan?" a soft female voice called from the door. Instinctively his head shot up to stare at the new voice. "Ready to come next door and get some pictures of that finger?"

With a terse nod and a slight smile, Logan followed the woman from the room.

The room was just large enough to house x-ray equipment. He was slightly impressed at how they had laid the room out to fit every, or just about, needed to take nearly any kind of x-ray.

"All right," the woman who'd led him in said, setting a foam block on the table before him. It looked like stair steps had been cut into the sides of it. "If you could please make a loose fist, but leave your pinky up," she instructed, cool fingers helping him to position his hand the way she needed for the x-ray. "All right, I'm going to over there for a moment, then we'll move your hand and take a couple more." She moved away to small protected area to push the button on the machine and take a film of his pinky. "What happened?" she asked innocently, just before a buzzing sound filled the room and she appeared from around a corner.

"Oh, I was in a hurry and frustrated, and shut my finger in the car door," he explained. She moved his hand to another position, removing the block for a small frame. Again, his hand was kept in a loose fist, pinky as far away from the rest of his hand as he could manage. "I'm actually feeling quite dumb right now."

She nodded, heading once again around the corner to her safe area. The room buzzed again before she spoke. "I've seen worse from less."

"Yeah, but I can't even figure out how I did it."

She again moved his hand. The position was close to uncomfortable, as she place his thumb against the plate turning his fisted hand so his pinky was on top. "Last one," she promised. A buzz and friendly smile later and they were done.

He was glad to be back in the exam room with a bored James. A dull throb in the hurt finger made him want to ask for a pain killer. He paced instead.

"You're going to wear a path," James said.

"Feels like there's already one worn," he countered.

"I sent Kendall and Carlos a text to let them know."

"Thanks."

"All right," the same woman who'd looked at his hand first said re-entering the room. Logan couldn't help think that 'all right' was an overused phrase in the place. It must be in the paperwork that they have to say it any time they want to deliver and kind of news or instruction. "It's broken. The good news is that it's clean break right along the tip. It should heal in a few weeks. No need for surgery or to set it. Because of the cuts to your finger, we're not going to drain that bleed under the nail. No need to add more chances for infection to get in there. I'm going to give you a splint to wear, but I'm going to treat the cuts and wrap some gauze around it for now. After that, they'll be back with prescriptions for anti-inflammatory medicine and antibiotics. We'll also give you a referral to a doctor specializing in hands and breaks, to make sure that it heals properly."

"Well all right," James chimed in, giving voice to Logan's irritation.

Quickly and carefully she applied a Neosporin type of cream to the cuts on both sides of this finger. gauze was folded and laid two different ways before tape was applied to hold it on to his finger. True to her word, another woman was at the door with paperwork in her hand before the tape had even been smoothed over skin and gauze.

James stood quickly, taking the paperwork and thanking the pretty girl. She smiled, wished Logan better and left. James scowled slightly at her retreating form.

"Good to go?" James asked, still staring after the woman he'd taken the paperwork from.

"Any questions or concerns?" the woman before Logan asked.

"No," he said, glad to be leaving and creating a to do list in his head. First stop was the nearest pharmacy to fill the prescriptions. After that it was back to where they were going before he pulled his dumbass card for the day...week...year? He hoped.

FIN

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A/N: Yes, I really shut my pinky finger in the door of my car, no I did not notice or feel it until I opened the door. The latched too, so I had to pull on the handle and open the door. Now, have to say that the door of my car is light and has more pocket like areas to allow for minimal damage to my finger. If the door to the car on the series is anything like the Buick my mom loans me from time to time, it's going to be much heavier and would likely have done much more damage. The rest of the story is that I was trying to hurry my 8 year old up after getting my 3 year old in the car. But I broke my finger in the process. So, after I finally got her in the car, I took her to school then made the journey to my favorite ready care place for treatment. But like in the story I arrived early and had to wait for them to open and then for me turn. I did ice it much sooner than Logan did though. But I didn't have another adult with me when I went, just my 3 yr old. I was absent minded when this happened because my daughter was taking her sweet time and my father was in ICU at the time. It was just a really rough April. It's all healed now, and story makes people cringe. Yes, I was that calm. I don't panic, don't really know how.

Disclaimer: I do not own BTR.


	3. Sprained- Kendall

Pain, deep and throbbing pulled seventeen year old Kendall Knight from his light, pre-wake sleep. He forced his green eyes open to look at the source of the sudden pain shooting through his arm. The thumb of his right was swollen, as was his wrist. Tears slowly formed in his eyes as the pain chased the sleep from his brain. Experimentally he moved his thumb, and he wished he hadn't tried as white hot pain shot through his wrist. A cry escaped his lips as he quickly pulled his injured limb to cradle against his chest, left hand coming up to cover his right. Tears flowed freely down his face as he tried to breathe through the pain and dial it down to a manageable level.

"Kendall?" a voice his brain wanted to recognize, but refused to recall the name of, said hesitantly. "Are you all right?"

Biting his lower lip, Kendall force eyes he hadn't realized he's closed open to see who'd spoken. Large, worried brown eyes stared back him. Another small wave of hot pain moved through his wrist up his arm. Shaking his head no, Kendall moved to sit up on his bed. "No," he finally gasped out.

"What happened?" his friend asked, not coming any closer, but not moving any further away.

"I don't know," he began, taking another breath to help will the pain level lower. "I just woke up in absolute agony."

"Should I get Logan or your mom?" Carlos asked, voice laced with worry and fear. Kendall nodded. Either would work. He just really wanted the pain to stop. He'd had plenty of injuries from hockey, but none of them held a candle to the pain currently enveloping his wrist and thumb. "Okay..." the Latino mumbled, moving toward the door, "ummm, which one?"

More tears spilled from his eyes. He closed them tightly, gritted his teeth, and attempted to answer the question asked. "Whoever you find first."

"Okay," Carlos said quickly, disappearing through the bedroom door.

The pain had finally ebbed to a manageable level, and he dropped his left hand away; keeping his right hand cradle against the center of his chest. He'd just dangled his legs over the edge of the bed, bare toes resting the area rug of the floor, when the bedroom door burst open and a half asleep Logan stumbled groggily in.

"Carlos, dude, you are so not making any sense right now," he said, after catching his balance in the center of the room.

"Yeah, and you just sounded like James!" Carlos retorted, before darting back out of the room.

"So, Carlos said something about you being in pain to the point of tears?" the shorter brunet asked, moving closer to his friend and band mate. "Is it your hand?" Brown eyes flitted from Kendall's pain filled green eyes to the hand held against his chest.

"Yeah," he grunted, as another bought of pain pushed through. "Was fine last night, and then all of a sudden there's more pain than anything that happened when we played hockey."

"Can I have a look?" Logan asked, trying not to sound too hopeful at being able assess an injury.

Kendall nodded, but kept silent as he moved his aching hand from his chest to hold out to his friend. Cool fingers carefully grasped the skin of his forearm and the top of his fist. Gently Logan's fingers slid over the swollen skin of Kendall's thumb and wrist. His blond band mate let out a gasped hiss.

"Can you open your fist?" he asked, pulling back one hand. Silently Kendall nodded. Slowly long, thin fingers uncurled to hand limply from his hand. "Okay, how much can you move your hand?"

"Not much," came the terse reply.

"I'm sorry to say this, buddy, but you're going to have to see an actual doctor. I'm not sure what this is," Logan said, studying his friend's expression carefully. Curling his fingers back into a loose fist, Kendall gave a relieved nod. "Do you need help getting dressed or you good?"

"I'm good."

"All right, I'll go get dressed and talk with your mom." With those words Logan left the room.

Ten minutes later, Kendall was dressed and waiting by the door with Logan for his mom; right hand still clutched against his chest. The throbbing pain was less that way.

"Oh, baby, what happened?" Jennifer Knight questioned, heading for the front door of the apartment where Kendall and Logan stood waiting.

"I don't know," Kendall said, pain still lacing through each syllable of every word. "It was like this when I got up."

"Let's go," she said, calmly ushering the boys out the door.

The short walk to the elevators was silent. Only the ding of the elevator arriving broke the silence in the hall. The silence continued in the elevator, in the lobby, and out to the parking garage. No one spoke as they piled into the van, Jennifer silently helping her son buckle his seatbelt. Doors banged closed, the engine roared to life, and they were off to the nearest ready care clinic.

"Kendall Knight?" a small, dark haired woman called from the door leading back to the exam rooms.

Wordlessly the trio stood and followed the woman through the door. She lead them down a hall to a largish room on the left. She moved quickly through the weight check, temperature and blood pressure readings before moving on to why Kendall was there. Kendall did his best to explain what the problem was through his obvious pain. Logan did his best to fill in anything Kendall couldn't.

"A provider will be with you shortly," she said, finishing up her notes before exiting the room.

Long minutes later, the door opened and in came an older blonde woman. Sitting on the stool in front of Kendall, she asked what happened.

"We don't really know," Logan supplied, "he woke up to immense pain in his right wrist and has been keeping cradled against his chest since then. His thumb and a portion of this wrist are swollen. He has a difficult time moving either, as it seems to cause acute pain."

The doctor nodded, listening to the information Logan relayed. "May I?" she asked, reaching for Kendall's injured hand.

With a slight nod he slowly stretched his arm out toward her. Her smaller, cool hands carefully held his arm to examine his wrist. "Can you open your hand?" He uncurled his fingers. "All right, now can you give me a thumbs up?" Slowly, Kendall willed his thumb to rise and his fingers to curl all the way in to a fist. He'd barely gotten his thumb half way up when pain, hot and strong, stopped him. Fresh tears fell from his green eyes. "All right, I'm gonna have them take you back for some x-rays and see if that'll tell us anything." With that she left.

"Kendall?" a tall, brunette with curly hair asked, poking her head into the room. Wordlessly, he slid off the table and followed her from the room.

Doing his best to fight down the pain, and follow her directions, Kendall silently made it through the process of x-raying his hand. face freshly teared, and hand in almost more pain that had been when he woke up, Kendall followed her back to his room and sat himself back down on the table.

"All right," the doctor from before said, coming through the door. "There's nothing broken in there. However, I can see that you're in a great deal of pain. So, we're going ot fit you with a brace and give you some pain pills, as well as anti-inflammatory medication to help with the swelling. What I think happened is a case of tendonitis. It's probably from over use of the hand."

"Okay," Kendall sighed, relieved to finally know what was going on.

The brunette who had taken his x-rays pushed a small cart through the door. Two different sized braces sat atop it in their boxes. She regarded his wrist and hand a moment before going for the larger of the two boxes. With carefully expedient movements, she placed the brace on his arm. Pulling the Velcro straps somewhere between tight and loose, she fastened it.

"How does that feel?" she asked, lifting her hands away.

"All right, I guess," he said, not saying what he really felt-bulky, was what he really wanted to say.

"So," the doctor said, slipping back into the room with paperwork. "Prescription slips, and care instructions. Were the brace for a week, but be sure to take it off at least once a day and use that hand some. Don't want it getting stiff or muscle to be lost." Mrs. Knight took the paperwork and the three headed for the exit.

FIN

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A/N: And that was my February-March. I discovered that there are 2 tendons in your thumb that run up to your elbow, both of them became inflamed at the same time. Yes, it really was that painful, and worse really. I'm a tough chick, so for me to be in tears over it, it hurt. Also, think that I should mention that I'm not doing this exercise to prove how tough I am, or make anyone feel sorry for me. Honestly, I've had more pity than I can since the end of August. And, yes, each and every injury in this series is something I've had happen to me. I'm just dividing them amongst the boys. Again, only giving them the more note worthy injuries though. I'm a wreck that by some grace can still walk.


End file.
